


The Love Story of William Tanner and The Quartermaster

by TeaCupsandUmbrellas



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, slow build romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 07:53:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaCupsandUmbrellas/pseuds/TeaCupsandUmbrellas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I do not own anything from the James Bond franchise, characters, settings, and otherwise. </p><p>I will be updating this semi-regularly now that class has calmed down. Oh, college. I didn't miss you.</p></blockquote>





	The Love Story of William Tanner and The Quartermaster

In true London form, it was raining.  
Not that anyone really minded. Everyone in London chose to be where it rained eighty-five percent of the time. You deal with it.  
Unless it’s the one year anniversary of James Bond’s death.  
“Can’t we just have one day that isn’t so sodding gray? I mean for God’s sake.” Tanner didn’t respond as he navigated the London streets to Churchill’s bunker. Part of his job was knowing when to speak and when to just let M ramble about the poor weather. Today was one of those days, and Tanner didn’t really care. He had a thousand other things to do today. They’d lost the flash-drive, adding stress to every person who worked for MI6. The move to the bunker sent them back at least three decades and the rats were absolutely horrid. Thankfully they seem to have found a decent enough space to work, but it wasn’t Vauxhall.  
“Tanner?”  
M was looking at him a bit strangely and he wondered if he’d been meant to respond to something. Had she asked a question? He thought back to what had filtered through his internal dialogue. They’d gotten out of the car . . . when had they arrived at her office? Well, that didn’t really matter. Nowadays it was a miracle Tanner didn’t get lost. But why did M look as though she wanted something from him?  
Oh. New quartermaster. Right. Q had retired after the move to the bunker. It had been six weeks. There were multiple candidates, all of them capable under normal circumstances.  
These weren’t normal circumstances.  
“I believe I’ve found a suitable replacement quartermaster, ma’am. He’s proven to be more than a little efficient. One might even call him a genius.”  
“I’d assume he’s at least quite intelligent, he works in Q-Branch after all.” M waved a hand and sat down at her desk, fingers automatically clicking away at the keyboard. “Will he get the job done?” She paused her typing, leveling Tanner a look that had the potential to make the strongest of men fall to their knees. Tanner remained straight-backed and profession. Not even a bead of sweat appeared at his brow.  
It was a risk – he knew that. Twenty-seven was young, genius or not. But M had taken a risk with him, hired at twenty-two, promoted at twenty-six. She thought Tanner was worth it, and she trusted him to make the right call.  
Tanner nodded.  
“Get it done, then.”

*

He never liked bars. They were loud and borderline disgusting. It took more effort than necessary to keep from dipping your elbow in a puddle of beer.  
He was about to give in and just leave, when a man much younger than he appeared sat in the stool beside him. Thinning hair revealed a life of stress, but didn’t completely hide a boyish face. Thirty-two. Too young for thinning hair and faint creases.  
Tanner didn’t speak for a moment, seeming to find the design of the wood bar terribly interesting.  
“You’ve been promoted. I don’t think I need to give anymore details than that at this time. You’ll have time to get, settled, of course.” Too-soft eyes finally lifted to meet his and a tired smile pulled at Tanner’s lips.  
“I . . . oh. Thank you.” Because of course this was Tanner’s doing, who else could it possibly be? Tanner nodded and slipped from the stool again, holding out his hand for a handshake.  
“You’re welcome, Q.” 

*

“Tanner. Tanner!” M’s voice cut through his thoughts and he immediately sat up straighter, blinking sleep fog from his mind.  
“Sorry, ma’am, what was that?”  
“The new quartermaster,” he held his breath. Had he made a wrong decision? “He needs to sleep more. He’s no use to us dead on his feet.”

*

“I don’t need a bloody coffee, I need access to those files,” Q breathed heavily through his nose. Tanner imagined a small dragon trying to breathe fire but only succeeding in producing a small gust of warm air. A small smile managed to tug at the corner of his mouth.  
It wasn’t until Q looked up from his computer that he saw Tanner leaning against the door frame. The Chief of Staff didn’t look as tired as he had that night in the bar, weeks ago. Had it been weeks? It felt simultaneously like it was ages ago and only minutes ago. Tanner pushed off the frame and started walking away, not bothering to even really acknowledge the quartermaster.  
Q counted four beats before giving instructions to a few of his ‘minions’ as they’d so endearingly been dubbed. He followed Tanner without a thought, almost blindly, tucking his hands into his pockets as they walked. Once he caught up with him, Tanner began talking.  
“Bond is back.” Q glanced at him quickly, eyes widening slightly behind his glasses.  
“But he’s –”  
“Rule number one of MI6,” Tanner interrupted. “You roll with the punches. All of them. I’m arranging for you to meet him at the National Art Gallery. You’ll introduce yourself, give him his ticket to Shanghai and whatever equipment he’ll need.” Tanner pulled an envelope from his jacket and handed it to him. “Good luck.”

*

“Tanner, I need to ask you something.”  
It was four in the morning, Q hadn’t slept in thirty hours, and Tanner had gotten even less sleep. The sleeves of Tanner’s shirt was rolled up to his elbows, his jacket discarded over the back of the chair. Thin hair was swept back from his face, fly-away from the amount of times he’d run his fingers through it.  
“What is it?” He blinked up at him, clearing his mind.  
“I . . .” Q stopped for a second before pulling up a chair beside Tanner. “I can’t go to Macau.” He folded his hands in his lap, hoping that would be that and he could leave in peace.  
“Why not?” Tanner turned his head and raised an eyebrow, trying not to sound overly annoyed. It was just another thing to worry about now.  
“Why not? Well, um. I just can’t.” He gave a wiry smile before letting it drop when Tanner’s expression didn’t change. “I’m afraid of flying, Tanner. It’s not anything you need to worry about, but Macau isn’t really an option.” He bit his lip and looked apologetically at him. “I’m sorry?”  
Tanner sighed and bowed his head. Had he missed that in his file? He was supposed to know these things. “Right. Um. Yeah, I’ll get Eve to do it, probably. Bond trusts her, for some reason.” He cleared his throat and shook himself, eyes focusing on the screen. Simple solution. It was his fault, anyway, Q wasn’t to blame.  
Q continued to sit beside him, watching his face as he clicked through files, typing at intervals. “Right,” he said softly. “I’ll be going, then,” he stood up and stepped out of the door, wondering why he felt so concerned. He paused just around the corner and turned, for once making a decision on impulse instead of thinking it through.  
“Come on,” he sighed, taking Tanner by the arm and pulling him away from the computer, using his free hand to take his jacket from the chair. “It’s four in the morning, neither of us have slept,” he stopped a protest by pushing him through the doorway. “And we’re going to sit and drink tea and maybe succeed in not working.”  
Tanner continued to protest as he was pushed away from his desk and towards the break room. Q sat him down and walked to the kettle, boiling water and grabbing his Q mug and one for Tanner as well. When he turned around, he set the mugs on the table gently, smiling softly.  
With his arms folded under his head, Tanner was snoring softly. Q sat down across from him and propped his chin on his hand, studying the man. Sleep took years off his face, and he looked younger now than Q had ever seen him. He realized that he’d never actually thought about what Tanner did. He was just there, with everything that was needed and more. James Bond and the other 00 agents were what made the department glamorous, but Tanner? He was what made it work.  
Q wasn’t sure if he’d dozed off or simply been staring into space, but the whistling of the kettle jerked him back to reality. Tanner awoke at the same time with a slight inhale, blinking and yawning. He didn’t seem to notice Q there until after he’d shaken sleep fog out of his mind.  
“Have I been here for long?” he asked quietly, glancing around the room, looking confused.  
“Do you not remember me dragging you in here for some much-needed tea?” Q smiled gently, almost forgetting about the whistling. “You fell asleep,” he added. “I think you may have needed that more, to be honest.”  
Tanner blinked and glanced at the still-whistling kettle. He stood up and took it off the stove, reaching into a drawer for the Earl Grey. Q watched, almost dumbfounded, as Tanner made the tea without a word. When a steaming cup was placed in front of him, he glanced up with a slightly confused look on his face.  
“You wanted tea,” Tanner reminded him. “There you go.” He took a sip of his own tea and walked out of the room, grabbing his suit jacket on the way out.  
Q stared at the cup for a few moments before taking a sip.  
It was perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own anything from the James Bond franchise, characters, settings, and otherwise. 
> 
> I will be updating this semi-regularly now that class has calmed down. Oh, college. I didn't miss you.


End file.
